


Forward, a Step at a Time

by Suspicious_Popsicle



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: M/M, New Year's Eve, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 14:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5590300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suspicious_Popsicle/pseuds/Suspicious_Popsicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A canon universe New Year's Eve short set not too long after the end of the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forward, a Step at a Time

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters and settings in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

With the passing of midnight, festivities were once again in full swing in the grand ballroom of the imperial palace. The hall was golden with the light of a thousand torches and candles burning merry and bright from their gilded sconces and crystal chandeliers. Fragrant boughs picked out with shining berries and hardy winter flowers hung in garlands and bunches around every sconce, window, and door. They edged the buffet tables and twined around a feast in a constant state of flux as guests ate and servants replenished. Aromas of roast meat, tender vegetables, and sweetly spiced desserts mingled with the smell of smoke, fir, and the close press of humanity. The grand ballroom had never seemed so small as when it was packed to its stunning capacity.

An unceasing gale of chatter swept the room, rushing through the strains of song from the musicians that played near the dance floor. The clack and clatter of footsteps over the marble floor was hushed beneath the rustling sighs of hundreds of silk and taffeta gowns. Gems glittered, laughter rang out, and glasses of champagne shone like pale gems as toasts were raised and quaffed.

The sense of gaiety in the air was familiar. The celebration of the passing from an old year into the new was one that Flynn had joined in year after year throughout his life. It was the richness of his surroundings, the finery and frippery that had him feeling out of place. They would be celebrating down in the Lower Quarter, too, but down there, the festivities would be spilling out into the streets from every tavern and inn. Down in the Lower Quarter, if the revelry became too crowded with heat and noise there was relief just outside: a chill breeze, a breath of air so crisp in contrast that it stung. Then, a block or two away, another gathering of merrymakers waiting to enfold anyone who would join them. Glass and brass to diamonds and gold, but the warm flickers of candlelight would be the same, the boughs and berries for cheer and fortune would have been hung, and joy and welcome were traded with smiles all round. The warmth of the season was something woken in people's hearts despite the bitterly cold weather.

Though Flynn had always felt cheered by the increased goodwill, it was Yuri who really loved the season. Tonight, he had grudgingly agreed to be present at the palace, away from his Lower Quarter family. The ball was more than a celebration, it was a symbol of unity going forward into the future. Ioder had invited not only nobles, council members, and Knights, but also mages and Krityans, members of the Union and representatives of Palestralle. Brave Vesperia, as the guild responsible for the defeat of the Adephagos, had been extended a special invitation and its members named guests of honor. To be certain that Yuri would at least accept that small appreciation for everything he had done, Flynn had hinted that he'd prepared a speech outlining his heroics and would be sure to deliver it should Yuri not be there to keep him quiet.

At the time, Flynn hadn't thought much of it. Now, as he scanned the crowd that had set the room abuzz like a bejeweled beehive, he hoped that he hadn't spoiled Yuri's evening. The last he'd seen of his friend had been just after the stroke of midnight, during the uproar and clamor, the popping of corks and clink of glasses, the rattle and whistle of noisemakers, the laughter of partners exchanging the first kiss of the new year. From across the room, he'd seen Yuri laughing and stumbling backward as Repede had reared up to plant his paws on Yuri's shoulders and bathe his face with excited licks. It hadn't precisely been a traditional new year's kiss, and he couldn't help but laugh softly to himself.

Amid the renewed excitement generated by the tolling of midnight, Yuri had disappeared. At first, Flynn suspected that he had slipped off to the Lower Quarter. It became clear that wasn't the case when Flynn spotted Repede at the end of one of the buffet tables, sneaking a mouthful of something off one of the platters. If Repede was still around, Yuri couldn't have gone far. His friends were all still scattered throughout the crowd, as well. Flynn spotted Karol cheering for the arrival of the new year, hand-in-hand with a girl bearing the crest of the Hunting Blades. Judith and Kaufman were conversing over champagne. Raven stood watching the room from where he leaned against the wall, a glass of wine in one hand and a plate in the other. He raised his glass to Flynn when their eyes met, and tilted his glass toward the doors that led out into the garden. Nodding his thanks, Flynn excused himself to Estellise and Rita and went in search of Yuri.

The door had been left open, allowing the chill night breezes in to keep the ballroom from becoming unbearably warm. The crowds grew thinner the closer he got, clustering away from the worst of the cold. Outside, golden light spilled across white marble in a flood that carried down the steps to the garden. The night left most everything else drenched in purple shadow, and Flynn looked automatically up at the strangely empty sky. He still wasn't used to the absence of the barrier and its comforting blue-white glow. Only the moon and stars lit the deep of night now, and they were no protection from monsters. The world was a harsher place, but at least it still existed. As long as there was life, there was hope. People would endure. Flynn was certain of that.

Only a few guests had traded the liveliness of the party for the cold, quiet night. Most were couples looking for a little more privacy. Yuri wasn't among them, and Flynn hurried down the stairs and away from the last of the torchlight. His breath condensed on the air, and he wondered what Yuri was doing outside. He'd never really liked the cold, and there hadn't been time for him to reclaim his coat before leaving the party. Wherever he'd gotten to, he must have been freezing.

“Yuri?”

There was no answer, only the scuff of Flynn's boots over the path. The garden was deserted. Evergreen topiaries remained neatly pruned, while trees that flowered pink, white, or purple in the spring held up bare branches to ensnare the stars. A few hardy flowers bloomed among ornamental grasses, but the true splendor of the garden would only return with warmer weather.

Reaching a bend in the path, he hesitated, ready to turn back and try the other way. Just to make sure, he called Yuri's name once more. This time, there was a response.

“In here.”

'Here' was a small gazebo, half overtaken by clinging vines twined with runty winter roses. The flowers were small and dark, their blossoms barely open. The scent of them was only the vaguest hint on the frosty air as Flynn stepped into the gazebo.

Yuri sat in darkness just beyond a lace-edged fall of moonlight that silvered the leaves of the vines. He was staring out up into the sky, hands held close in front of his face where he could warm his fingers with his breath. Flynn took a seat on the other side of the watery shaft of light and joined him in his star gazing.

“Happy New Year,” Flynn said softly.

Yuri nodded. “Same to you.” He was oddly quiet. Flynn wondered if he'd had a bit too much to drink before he'd gone wandering.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Just needed a breath of fresh air.” He was quiet for a beat, then asked: “Been a long year, hasn't it?”

“Very.” He laughed shortly at the understatement, keenly aware of the warmth he traded in that breath. “Some mornings I wake up and still can't believe it all really happened. It feels like a story. Or a nightmare.”

“That's why it _did_ happen,” Yuri murmured. “People forgot it wasn't a myth. The Empire's already spreading stories to cover up why the blastia really stopped working.”

“To protect you,” Flynn insisted. He hadn't been happy about the lies either, but there were too many people hurt and upset and angry by the loss of the blastia and all the pain and problems it had caused to risk letting it be known that it had been a conscious decision...or that Yuri was the one who had proposed the idea.

“I understand why. Doesn't mean I have to like it.” He raised an arm onto the sill and rested his chin in his hand. The moonlight washed the color from his face and left sparks like the cold, unblinking stars in his dark eyes as he kept his attention fixed on the heavens. “You think it'll all be worth it?”

Flynn was thrown by the question. “The false explanations?”

“Everything,” Yuri said. His gaze flickered momentarily to Flynn. “Everything we've done. Everything we've sacrificed. Do you think it was all worth it? Do you think it was enough to change the world?”

“Change, certainly,” Flynn said, slowly. He shifted in his seat, looking at the floor, at his boots and Yuri's. He knew all too well that the blastia technology wasn't all that had been sacrificed. It still pained him to think of the lives lost...and of the choices Yuri had made in order to spare others. “I can't really say 'Yes, it was enough' because obviously, it won't be. Not for something that's better than what we had. Not for something that lasts.” He looked up, ready to meet Yuri's eyes if Yuri would look at him. “We're still fighting for change, Yuri, all of us. That isn't going to stop anytime soon.”

A rueful smile curved Yuri's lips. “Good thing we've always been up for a fight, huh?” He let his arm fall, turning it into a pillow. Draped in moonlight and darkness, he looked like shadows on snow, cold and a little ethereal. He studied Flynn with bright, alert eyes. “Got any resolutions?”

Flynn's answer was immediate. “Restore the Knights to what they should be.”

Yuri held up an imaginary glass to toast him. “If anyone can do it, it's you.”

“I appreciate that.” He meant it. There had been times when Yuri's faith in him was what had kept him going. “What about you?”

“I've got a couple in mind.” His eyes slid shut. “To act with honor and integrity. To save everyone who can be saved.”

Flynn nodded, unsurprised by those resolutions. He had only one question. “When you say 'everyone who can be saved' does that include you?”

There was a glimmer of surprise in Yuri's face as his eyes flew open, though it vanished just as soon as Flynn had noticed it. “Do you think I need to be saved?”

“I don't know.” He looked down at his gloved hands, folded together and hanging over the shadowed tile-work of the gazebo floor. Flecks of silvery stone glinted in the spill of moonlight. “I can understand your motivations, but I can't read your mind. I believe in you, but you're the only one who can really tell if you'll mistake vengeance for justice again.”

“And if I don't ever take that path again it means I can be saved?”

Flynn smiled, the expression wan at first, exhausted by thoughts of how he'd agonized over Yuri's choices. Then, drawing a deep breath and setting his shoulders, he sat straight to face Yuri. He could feel the warmth returning to his smile. He trusted Yuri to see the sincerity in his eyes as he spoke quietly.

“If you've resolved not to, then you already have been.”

He offered up his trust, knowing that Yuri wouldn't break it. Acceptance was a tiny, upward quirk of Yuri's lips, a slackening of the tension in his shoulders as he straightened up, leaving his place in the light behind as leaned against the back of his seat.

“I'll be sure to watch my step.”

They fell quiet again. Yuri once more turned his face to watch the stars and Flynn, after a long moment spent staring at him, let his gaze wander heavenward as well. There was still something between them, something waiting to be said, quivering on the edge of awareness. When Yuri spoke, his words were like stones dropping into a pond, sending gentle ripples across the surface.

“So, are we good?” He looked relaxed, but there was a certain air about him that told Flynn he was hanging on every hurried heartbeat of silence; waiting for the answer, waiting to be put at ease.

“Well...I'm a little hurt that I wasn't your first kiss of the year.”

When Yuri looked up at him, utterly bewildered, Flynn put his hands up to either side of his head like Repede's ears and barked. He laughed when Yuri shoved him, rolling his eyes. That palpable tension was gone.

“Shut up. And what are you complaining for, anyway?” he demanded, grinning. “You actually did kiss Estelle!”

“Only on the cheek.” And only because she had done so to him, first. A year ago, he wouldn't have been able to return the gesture. Their statuses—and the way he had viewed their social standing—had been too different. It was just one of the many, many things that had changed during a year of upheaval, a year that was now officially over.

“ _Only on the cheek_ ,” Yuri repeated mockingly. He grinned crookedly. “Only you would complain about getting kissed by a princess instead of me.”

He was leaning in across the small space between them, chin tilted up. Flynn accepted the invitation, and the thin moonlight faded to darkness as his eyes slid shut. Their first kiss of the new year was a soft, quick thing. A beating of butterfly wings. Suddenly, the cold didn't seem to bite quite so deep.

“There is a very good reason, both for me to complain about that, and to be the only one to do so.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Their lips met again in an exchange of heated breath. Lips parted, making way for a brush of warm tongues. Yuri tasted like spiced apple cider. There was no hint of bitter alcohol from the wine and champagne that flowed freely inside. A shiver rolled up his spine, transferring to Flynn in the midst of the kiss, and Yuri tried to follow it. He dragged himself closer across the bench, pulling Flynn in against him. His embrace was tight, rough, seeking to gain warmth as much as to bring them together. Flynn held him close, laughing into the kiss until their lips parted. He kept his arms around Yuri, though, rubbing his hands over his back to generate a little friction to warm him. Humming with pleasure, Yuri arched into the touch.

“Have we put in enough of an appearance to sneak away?”

“It's a little late to be asking that now, don't you think?”

Yuri butted their foreheads together. He kissed Flynn's cheek, lifted his chin to kiss beneath his eye, stretched to press his lips to Flynn's temple. “You know what I mean. Let's go back to my room.”

The request surprised him. “We don't have to go all that way. My new quarters are quite comfortable. We could just—”

“We will,” Yuri said. He rested his forehead against Flynn's and gave him a quick kiss. “Eventually.” His lips tickled against Flynn's. His eyes were closed, lashes brushing against Flynn's skin. Cold or anticipation or a mix of both sent tremors through him, and he rocked slightly against Flynn. He was strength and support and home, and no matter how much the world changed, that would always be true, _had_ always been true, ever since the childhood they'd shared.

“For now...." The words escaped on a breath. Yuri paused, and Flynn felt it when he licked his lips. “For now...isn't it all right if some things stay the same?”


End file.
